Swing Up
by fadedjae
Summary: Finally, a sunny summer day. And of course Wybie has to ruin it. Mild Coraline/Wybie.


She slurped her lemonade as she wound her way through the garden. It had been hot work, pulling weeds, and boring, too, even when she pretended she was Godzilla and the plants were unfortunate bystanders meeting their untimely demise. So after a while, she had jammed her shovel into the soil, brushed off her knees, and after stealing two delicious cookies before her mom caught her, meandered past the flowering cherry trees, jumped over the bed of daffodils, and gave the prickly raspberry bushes a wide berth.

It had taken practically the entire day, but yesterday she and her mother had managed to tie the hammock up between two oaks. Her very own hammock. Her very own, comfortable, cool, awesome hammock. Her very own, comfortable, cool, awesome hammock that was currently being invaded by a certain someone in jean shorts and a pirate-skull t-shirt. Wybie stretched out like a satisfied Cat, his eyes closed and goofy hair flopping around his face.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

He opened one eye lazily. "Nice hammock you got here, Jonesy."

"It's my hammock." She stomped closer, which made her spill some of her lemonade, and pointed a cookie accusingly at him. "It was my present and I set it up. Property of Coraline."

One of his legs dangled over the edge of the blue-striped canvas and he pushed against the ground to start the hammock swinging again. "Mm," he agreed at last.

"So get out!"

"Ooh, can I have a cookie?"

"I'm not going to let you steal my hammock and then hand over my food, too. You have ten seconds to move your butt or I'll tip you out. One, two, three..."

"But I'm so comfortable!"

"Four, five, six..."

"Look, you can have it when I'm done."

"Seven, eight, nine." She huffed and crossed her arms, spilling even more lemonade. She quickly gulped the rest of it down, then set the empty cup in the grass. She sighed as she stood back up: the hammock was still full of Wybie. "Ten. Wybourne Lovat."

"What?"

"Move over."

The hammock swung way up as she dropped into it. She practically squashed Wybie's arm when she plopped down; they scooted apart instantly and she made a show of kicking her legs up so he could move out of the way as she lay down. "Move over!" Their knees banged together and she kicked him in the shin. "You're taking up the whole thing!"

"Yeah, well, you're rocking it!"

"It's a hammock, genius."

Coraline crossed her arms over her chest, but even then her elbow still touched Wybie a little. And it got uncomfortable, too, pulling them in so tightly. She was just going to have to put her arms down. And that was that. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Right. Very slowly she unfolded her arms, keeping her left plastered to her side as she slid it carefully down. There. Totally not a big deal. So what if their shoulders pressed each other? "So, want a cookie? Made them last night."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and shifted a bit, making the hammock wobble. "Sure."

Their fingers touched, a brush of warmth, before she snatched her hand back. He mumbled a thanks, she mumbled back and then turned all of her attention to eating and not noticing his soft t-shirt brushing against her arm. He could be so stupid sometimes! She opened her mouth to tell him exactly how she felt about him, but the words got tangled in her throat some where. Her heart was acting strange, too, pounding so hard that it was practically rocking the hammock itself. Coraline closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the gentle sway. Maybe it wasn't all bad, sharing it.

"Not bad, I guess. Not enough salt, though."

Her eyes flew open. "Yeah well, it's not like I forced you to eat it, jerkwad!"

"I didn't say they were awful or anything! I mean, I've definitely had worse!"

She climbed to her knees and glared down at him. "Jerkwad," she repeated.

"Am not!" He sat up too, which made the hammock rock like it was a bowl of jello, and they had to grab the sides so they weren't thrown off. "Whoa! Hey, you're going to break it!"

"Hammocks are supposed to rock, Wybie!" It was like surfing on top of tsunami! Coraline squealed with laughter and leaned hard to the left, making the hammock dip to the ground. She almost grabbed onto him, but decided that he deserved to topple out. Still, she twisted to look over her shoulder, just to check on him; he was laughing too.

When he leaned to the right, she nearly somersaulted onto the grass. She whooped and pushed against the ground, and the hammock flew way up into the air, making her stomach flip. She flung herself to the other side and the hammock swung around, creaking and shaking and awesome. Coraline laughed so hard that her chest hurt and she couldn't breath, and Wybie gasped something about how crazy she was, but then he grinned his stupid crooked grin, and she decided not to knock him out. They rolled into the middle, holding onto each others' shirts for support as the hammock warped and jiggled and finally slowed down. She uncurled her fingers from his sleeve and flipped onto her back, squinting into the sunlight.

He did the same, and they sat in comfortable silence for a bit, the hammock groaning complaints as it swayed. "Add more salt next time. Not a ton, just, like another teaspoon."

"You're so lucky that I'm too tired to punch you." She raised her fist menacingly, but it was too heavy to hold up. "I don't even _like_ baking."

"Well, I can help you, Jonesy. Next time you try, I mean. If you want. I like to cook and stuff."

"Yeah?" She squinted again, uncertainty hovering like a cloud. It was a strange image, Wybie in an apron.

"Yeah. I cook all the time. It's easy. All you do is mix it all up, throw it in the oven, and bam! You're done. Easy," he said again. "I can make anything. I've been helping my grandma since forever. When she's tired, I make dinner."

"Cool!" She rolled onto her side to look at him. Maybe he wasn't completely hopeless. Even though he did have leaves in his hair and a stain of something purple on his shirt. "My dad makes the grossest food ever - If you can even call it food. Dinner's like being tortured. Wybie, you have to teach me."

"Sure, Jonesy." He smiled, but not a big grin like he had before. It was nice, though, and Coraline could feel blood speeding up into her cheeks.

She lay back down before he could see her blush, otherwise she'd be forced to kill him. "Good. You owe me for stealing my hammock, anyway."

When she dropped her arms to her sides, she felt the brush of his fingers again; his knuckles rested just above her wrist. Her heart started jumping around again, like it was going to throw itself up her throat and maybe take the cookie along with it, just for fun. If he even thought about holding her hand, she'd stuff him down the well before he even knew what hit him. Not that there was anything wrong with it, she supposed. In fact, it might be nice. Maybe. But, she thought as she tried to look at him out of the corner of her eye, it was way to hot to do something like holding hands. She scowled up at the sun, swallowed about ten thousand times, then slid her hand up and stretched back her fingers, pressing them against the soft skin on the back of his hand. She could feel him flex his knuckles and then, after the longest ten seconds in history, he gently rubbed back. There. Totally not a big deal.

The hammock squeaked quietly, like a mouse lullaby.


End file.
